Flash of Green and Splash of Whiskey
by freedomatthesea
Summary: It's Killian's first St. Patrick's Day and Emma wants to treat him to a round of drinks, though there's more to their friendship than meets the eye.


In honor of my own birthday, I've decided to write a fic for the world of Captain Swan. So my greatest gift to day will be hoping you all enjoy this!

* * *

"One day I'll understand how both you _and_ Graham sound Irish, but, well at least you, don't have a clue where or what it is."

"I'm going to assume it's a land?" Killian retorted with narrowed eyes, watching as Emma sank in the leather chair beside him. She passed him a shot glass of amber liquor and he brought it to his lips, breathing in deeply, "Whiskey?"

"Jameson's. It's Irish." Emma smirked as she took a long sip, relishing the burn as it slipped down her throat. It was the first time she'd brought Killian down to the Rabbit's Hole and she figured St. Patrick's Day was the time, if any, to get the pirate drunk in the bar. "What do you think?"

"I'd like some more." He replied with a nonchalant shrug, sitting the empty glass down with a satisfied hiss, "It's fair enough, not the strongest."

Emma pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes, "I should have known better than to try to get a pirate drunk."

"Well, we both know what happened the last time you attempted to drink me under the table." Killian gave her a smirk, his eyes lit with something she couldn't quite put her finger on. "Don't we?"

"Yeah." The sheriff deadpanned, "I wasn't _that_ drunk and we both know that."

He stroked his chin, "Ah, right… Since it happened again in the morning."

"You are never going to let that go are you?" Emma took another long gulp, finishing the whiskey and sitting her glass down on the table between them.

"It was quite a pleasant little accident, if I might say so." Killian nodded his head to the bar, "Do I just walk over there to get more?"

"Just tell him it's on my tab." Emma nodded, keeping her eyes low as she felt him studying her face. There was no way in hell she was letting him see her disappointment at his words. She was already stupid enough to have assumed that that night and the following morning meant anything more than stress relief for him.

"Do you want another?" Killian questioned, pinching the rims of the glasses together so he could carry both, resting them on his faux hand.

"Ask the bartender for Bailey's for me." Emma replied, leaning back into the curved back of the chair, "Thanks."

Killian stared a moment longer, picking up on her suddenly closed off demeanor. He opened his mouth to question it, but he figured it would only insight a row and he wasn't keen on getting in a fight with her. Which happened far too often as it were. After their semi-drunken blunder, that was nearly a month in the past now, he'd assumed things would get better between them. But nothing improved and it only seemed to worsen their tension and irritation with one another. Proving his point that whatever there was or could be between them was going to always hit her brick wall of trust issues.

Emma glanced over her shoulder, watching as Killian leaned his weight against the bar, making some joke with the female bartender behind the counter. Her brows creased together as she watched, what she was fairly certain was flirting, before she tore her eyes away unwilling to watch the scene any longer. She was probably extremely stupid to bring the flirtatious pirate out, to get drunk, on St. Patrick's Day. But, no stupider than when she'd slept with him in the Inn and had to endure Ruby's smirks and teasing after the fact.

If you're going to have a one night stand with a pirate, don't have it in an Inn run by two people with the hearing of a wolf. Or don't have a one night stand with a pirate at all, that saves you from a hell of a lot of irritation.

"One Bailey's for the lass," Killian grinned as he lowered the glass in front of her, before moving around and sitting down in the seat across from her.

The sheriff eyed him. He had that stupid grin on his face and even if it were directed at her, she had a sinking feeling that it wasn't because of her. Because after all, one night stands were all she'd ever been good for.

"So, St. Patrick's Day." He canted his head, "What exactly does the holiday entail?"

"Green, alcohol, merriment." Emma shrugged, staring into her glass. "You pinch people if they're not wearing green."

"Are you wearing green?" Killian questioned, leaning forward in his seat, eyes sweeping over her, "Because I'm not seeing any green on you."

Emma cocked a brow, "I'll have you know that I _am_ wearing green, thank you."

Killian smirked, chuckling, "I'm not certain you're telling the truth."

"No." She replied bluntly, shaking her head. Wherever he thought this night could go, wasn't happening. She wasn't sleeping with him again.

The pirate took a deep breath and nodded, "I suppose you're right lass." He glared down at the amber whiskey in his glass, before tilting his head back and finishing it off. He'd asked the woman behind the counter what she thought of the situation. If they sheriff had asked him out to have drinks on this holiday as more than just mates. And she'd thought that there was a definite spark, but clearly the bartender was wrong. "I wouldn't want you to have to make another _awful_ mistake again." He gritted out, sitting the glass down on the table with a loud clink.

Emma met his eyes, holding his gaze for a second before she broke it by drinking her Irish Cream. She had nothing to say to that comment, it just proved, again, where they stood on the matter.

"You two want to join us for Liar's Dice?" Lerory asked as he walked over from the table in the corner, clearly already well on his way to being inebriated.

"Depends on if you're going to be in the drunk tank tonight." Emma challenged with a grin, taking another sip of her drink.

"I haven't played it in years," Killian said as he rose from his seat, more than willing to do something other than sit and stare at Emma and wonder what he'd done wrong along the way. "I'm in."

"Excellent." Lerory clapped his hands together, rolling his shoulders, "You coming Sheriff?"

"I'm just going to stay here for a bit, finish my drink." Emma said distantly, looking down to the glass she had resting on her thigh.

Killian's eyes lingered on hers before he followed the dwarf to the table, laughing loudly at some comment the half-drunk man made as they went.

Tonight was definitely not working out the way she had planned.

Emma was thankful that the table where the men were playing the game was out of her line of view, keeping her from watching Killian and wondering why the hell she had feelings for him. With the cloudy, liquor addled thoughts of their last time, only time, first time – she didn't even know what to call it, weren't helping matters.

Finally after another moment of deliberation she rose to her feet, making her way over to the bar to pay off her tab and tell the bartender that whatever else Killian ordered could go on her tab as well and she'd drop by tomorrow to pay it off. With the briefest glance towards the table that she'd allow herself she headed straight for the door, slipping out into the cool March night.

"_Swan_!"

Emma looked over her shoulder, crossing her arms tightly across her chest as the pirate caught up to her. "Go finish your game Killian."

Killian's brows knit together, "I thought you were joining us."

"I'm not really feeling the whole celebration thing tonight." She replied, avoiding his eyes. "I'm just going to go home."

"Emma, _lass_." Killian caught her arm as she started to turn away, tugging her back towards him. "What's wrong?"

"Let go of me." Emma snapped, jerking her arm out of his hold. Her eyes finally met his, "I'm not in the mood Killian. Just go back in their have a few more drinks, on me, play dice and…" Her heart ached in her chest, "I don't even care, fuck the bartender. Go home with her. Whatever." She turned on her heels again, making her way away from him as fast as she could, but he was right beside her in a second.

"I swear to the gods," Killian swore, grabbing her arm again and pulling her close. His arm slipped around her waist, his fingers releasing her arm and moving to cup her cheek. "If I'm going home with _anyone_ she's going to be you."

Emma barely had time to react to his words before his lips slanted over hers. Her arms went over his shoulders, pulling him in closer. She tasted the whiskey on his tongue as it slipped past her teeth to tangle with her own whiskey laden tongue. Breathing was not important right so long as their lips were feverishly pressing against each other.

Killian's hand slipped away from her cheek, going to her waist, dragging her shirt up just enough that he could slip his warm fingers beneath, trailing them over her pale skin. She was flush against him now and he wondered if she could feel his heart hammering beneath his chest, if she could feel the dizzying heat that boiled beneath his skin, all because of her.

She broke away, gasping for air, her eyes hooded as they opened to meet his, "Killian… I-.." She took a few more breaths, shivering as his hand trailed higher up her side, "What was that?"

"That was me kissing you." His eyebrows shot up and he gave her a curious look, "Do I need to repeat it to prove that it was me kissing you?"

Emma laughed embarrassedly, her cheeks hot and flushed, either from the whiskey or from him or maybe even from the cold air blowing against them. "What was that…thing with the bartender?"

"What thing?" Killian arched a brow, "I ordered our drinks and asked if she thought I had a chance with you."

"You _asked_ someone if you they thought you had a chance with me?" Emma's eyes widened with incredulous shock, "Seriously?"

"You've been giving me the cold shoulder for a month." Killian pursed his lips, "I was assuming that you were either pushing me away because you thought our night together was great and you were just recreating the beanstalk all over again without the manacles or you really thought that was the worst night of your life and I was imagining this whole thing."

"Imagining what?" Emma questioned, drawing her tongue over her bottom lip, tasting his lips against hers still.

"My feelings for you." Killian retorted bluntly, he was past the point of concealing his words, especially if doing so had only sought to bring him a month of aggravation because Emma was stubborn and unwilling to relent and listen to what he was actually saying most of the time.

"You..? Oh." Emma's brows knit together and she smiled at him. She opened her mouth to say something, but she figured anything she said was going to come out stupid and less sentimental than she would hope for, so instead she pressed her lips against his, kissing him with all of the built up frustration from the past month.

Killian trailed his lips over her jaw and neck, groaning against her skin when Emma decided it was high time to glide her fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. "Your place?"

"Parents."

"The ship?"

"Too far."

"The Inn?"

Emma groaned, she really didn't want Ruby giving her those looks again, but she wasn't going to make the thirty minute walk to the docks with the way Killian was trying to work her up. "Fine, come on." She grabbed his hand, leading them towards the Inn.

"Shall I wait out here?" He asked, knowing that the situation was no doubt exactly as it had been the last time. Wait outside, room for one, slip in the back door, and slip out before someone saw him in the morning.

"Nope." Emma replied, keeping her hand in his as she stepped inside the foyer of the Inn, "I need a room."

Granny eyed the two, trying to mask her smirk, "Well you're in luck, we've got plenty. You're ahead of the rush." She winked at Emma, before turning to grab a key off of the wall, "It's the same room you stayed in when you first got here."

"Thanks," Emma said, reaching in her jacket for her wallet, "Can you put it on credit?"

Granny slid the card back across the counter, "The room's on the house tonight." She said, making a point of looking between the two of them with an approving smile. "Enjoy yourselves." She winked again and turned to go back to her office.

"You know, your way was probably better." Emma pointed out as she glanced towards Killian, "The way we did it before."

"Mhm," He hummed, taking the key from her hand, looking it over. "Interesting design."

Emma stared at it, "It's just a swan and some vines." She shrugged, looking up at him curiously, "What's interesting about that?"

"Well, the swan's sat atop of a beanstalk, for one." He pointed out, passing the key back to her.

She gaped, "You're right." Emma's heart fluttered as she realized that there were so many things that had pointed her in his direction from the very first day she stepped into Storybrooke.

They climbed the stairs up to the hotel room, unlocking it and stepping inside. It was just as she remembered it. "And the pirate ship." She mumbled to herself, releasing his hand as she walked towards the picture, "Have you seen this before?"

"It's the Jolly." Killian replied, "Why's it hanging in here?" He stepped up behind her, his hand on her hips as his lips pressed against the curve of her neck.

"I don't know." Emma turned in his hold, looking up into those too-blue eyes, "But it's been here since when I first came to town and.." She grinned, shaking her head, "I've been incredibly stupid over this last month." She rose up on her toes, pressing her lips against his, fingers finding their way into his hair, keeping him close.

"I'm going to find what you have on that's green," Killian mumbled against her lips, slipping his hand beneath her shirt, fingers splaying out over her stomach.

"Well there's only two items of clothing that have the chance of being green." Emma teased, pulling back from his lips long enough to speak, "But you're not wearing any either."

"But I'm the newcomer here." He pointed out, walking her back towards the bed, "Have mercy on my cultural ignorance."

"Next St. Patrick's Day you're wearing green." She pointed out as her legs hit the bed and she went backwards, pulling him with her.

Killian smirked, "You won't be wearing green for much longer, so what's the point."

Emma rolled her eyes, "I've yet to see that in action, however."

"I will rip your shirt if you're not careful." Killian said with a low growl in his voice.

"I didn't tell you _not_ to rip my shirt." She replied, tugging on his hair, "Maybe that's what I wanted."

"You're the one that has to go back to your place tomorrow with a ripped shirt," He pointed out, a brow arched and a smirk forming on his lips.

"Hmm," Emma mused, her hands fisting in the material of his shirt, giving it a sharp tug, "Looks like you're going to have a ripped shirt too."

"Minx." Killian growled, dipping down, clamping his teeth onto the material between her breasts and giving it a sharp tug, the shirt ripping almost in half.

"_Bastard_." Emma laughed breathily as his lips slid over her newly bared skin, tongue flicking out and making her arch her back.

"I found green." Killian mused, his teeth scraping over the front of her bra.

Emma nodded, "I suppose you could say I was _hoping_ this would happen."

"That you'd get lucky?"

"It _is_ the day of luck after all." The blond slowly sat up, tugging him close and capturing his lips. She pulled at his remaining tatters, baring his skin for her fingers to glide over. Her nails ghosted down his spine, enjoying the way he groaned into her mouth, deepening the kiss a little more fervently.

The alcohol hadn't muted any of her sensations; in fact she was pretty sure her senses felt heightened in the moment, every touch burning her skin blissfully. His hand had found its way between her thighs, tormenting her through the layers of cloth that separated skin from skin.

"_Killian_." She panted as he pulled away from her completely, her eyes hooded as she watched him rise from the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Did we both learn last time that I'm complete rubbish with getting your trousers off?" He gave her a look, licking his tongue as he did.

"Yes." Emma groaned as she pried herself out of bed, kicking off her boots and working her jeans off of her hips. Her eyes never left his face, even when he started to undo the laces of his trousers, and the leather material fell to the floor with a thud.

Killian stepped towards her, eyes flickering up and down her, "You look quite fine in green." His hand rested at her hip, fingertips massaging her skin. "But I think you'll look better without any green on."

"Oh, I'm sure I will." She retorted with her tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek. She ran her fingers over the leather straps that crisscrossed over his shoulder and chest, holding on his faux hand, "Do you want these taken off?"

Killian deliberated silently, "Yes."

Emma leaned up and kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip as her fingers worked at the clasps that held the metal and leather to his skin. She hadn't seen him without the contraption since she'd watch them take it off in the hospital several months ago.

Once freed from the device, Killian hauled her upright in his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips as he laid her back on the bed. His weight pinned her against the bed, his hips pressed deliciously against hers. She rocked her hips teasingly, her hands sliding over his shoulders and his back, her lips lazily meeting his as he worked his hand beneath her, unclasping her bra and tugging the material down her shoulders.

It had been a nice enough bra, great to look at for a few minutes, but the novelty had worn off and he just wanted to see her bare skin beneath his gaze.

Their movements were slow, their touches meaningful, taking the time that they had to learn one another in a way that their first night hadn't allowed for and even that next morning hadn't given them.

"Killian please." Emma whispered breathlessly, her hips arching off of the bed, rocking against his. He hovered over her, but he was being a relentless tease. "I swear to God if you don-" Her words were cut off, his lips pressed against hers as he finally claimed her.

They both forgot about the past month of pretending that they didn't have feelings for each other simply because the other wasn't the clearest on showing those emotions. They both had their fair share of baggage that they were dragging behind them, unable to completely trust another person enough to give them their heart. But tonight, that seemed to have changed.

In a flash of green and a splash of whiskey, they'd found something in each other that wasn't exactly common. It was their own pot of gold at the end of the rainbow - their four leaf clover. It was the luck that had brought them together, despite the odds being against them. Neither of them were Irish, but they certainly had their luck.


End file.
